


Pluck On Laughter

by vissy



Category: Toy Soldiers
Genre: M/M, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vissy/pseuds/vissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the movie, after the gang has moved Gould's office onto the quad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pluck On Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Adrienne in the 2007 Yuletide challenge.

It took nine backbreaking trips from the headmaster’s office to the quad before they managed to drag all of Dr. Gould’s furniture and shit into place. By that stage Hank’s lungs were bellowing loud enough to wake the entire school - the bookcase had been a killer, and the fat, for-show law journal digests it housed were even worse - but Joey could see a zealous gleam behind Hank’s glasses and knew Hank was still dwelling on the paintings.

“No, Hank,” he said, keeping his voice low. The way voices carried on the night air, it was some serious fucking miracle they hadn’t been caught yet.

“But-”

“I said _no_, man.” Christ, hadn’t they done enough? It was almost two in the morning and Hank was a lunatic if he thought Joey was going to start setting up easels for Gould’s crappy draw-by-numbers yard sale fare. “Look, even if Billy _could_ find his way to the art room without getting lost in the ventilation system for the rest of his life, it’s still gonna look all wrong.”

“Yeah, it’d ruin the pure aesthetic of what we’re trying to achieve here,” said Snuffy dreamily. He was leaning way back in Gould’s chair, looking worn out and cheerful as he spun the globe upon its axis with idle fingers and stared up at the stars.

“What the hell would you know about aesthetics, roommate?” asked Hank as he fussed over the placement of Gould’s blotter on the desk. “You’re the one who wanted Jennifer to take off her stockings and high heels. You don’t know shit about true beauty.”

“Excuse me?” Snuffy sat up with a thunk and rolled forward, slapping his hands on the desk and glaring at Hank. Gould’s teacup rattled ominously in its saucer. “‘Jennifer’ is an eighty seven year old grandma with false teeth and purple hair who’s putting her twenty six cats through college with phone sex. And you know what? Your breath _does_ stink.”

“_My_ breath?” scoffed Hank. “I’m not the fool sucking down a pack of cancer sticks every day. And you wonder why you can’t breathe.”

“You’re the one pissing and moaning-”

“Because I’m the one who _carried_ half this shit down here-”

“Hey, I helped!”

“Snuff, you carried the fucking _globe_.”

“Yes, Henry, and it was really fucking _awkward_. And what about all those drawers and knick-knacks and stuff, huh? Who figured out how to shut the fucking grandfather clock up after you practically dropped it on its head? You act like I’m completely useless.”

“You said it, not me,” said Hank, shrugging provocatively. Joey could actually hear Snuffy’s teeth grinding and braced himself.

“Guys!” Billy hissed, leaping up from the grass where he’d been straightening the rug. then shoving Snuffy back against the leather padding and covering his mouth. “Jeez louise, would you keep it down? _Everyone’s_ help will be for shit if Parker overhears your little lovers’ quarrel. Break it up.”

Joey shook off a weird pang at Billy’s words - _and Snuffy better not be damned well _licking_ Billy’s palm, the little shit_ \- and took Hank by the shoulders, pushing him into one of the visitors’ chairs and giving him a conciliatory pat. The cheap upholstery didn’t look nearly so bad in the dark, although Snuffy had still joked that they could have wrapped the seat cushions in some of Joey’s old tie-dyed tees and no one would have been the wiser. “So groovy, it’s outta sight,” Joey sang under his breath as Ric sank down into the seat beside Hank’s with a low groan.

“Huh?” Billy’s restless bulldog stance had stilled at Joey’s hushed syncopation, and Joey blushed. Sometimes he forgot how attuned to him Billy could be.

He shook his head, smiling at Billy’s enquiring expression. “Sorry. Ever since you said you wanted to do something epic tonight, I’ve had Faith No More stuck in my head.”

Billy grinned. “Thought you didn’t like rap.”

“Or metal,” Snuffy mumbled between Billy’s fingers.

“Well, it’s not really either, is it? Whatever.” said Joey, rolling his eyes, then chuckling as Billy wiped his hand with lip-curled ostentation on Snuffy’s shirt.

“_Epic_. That’s the one with the fish flopping around at the end, isn’t it?” said Ric, looking at Joey with an absurdly solemn frown on his face. “I always feel bad for that fish.”

“Oh, no one hurt the poor little fishie, all right?” sighed Snuffy, as Joey chucked Ric’s chin gently; Ric looked almost drunk with exhaustion and probably still planned on getting up at some ridiculous hour for his morning run. They were due in the dean’s office at nine sharp, but Joey had a feeling that Parker’d have them sweating long before then. This night’s work was going to provide enough exercise for the rest of the millenium.

“Man, I wish Phil were here. Wait’ll he hears that his taste in music’s finally rubbing off on you,” said Hank, grinning up at Joey. “He’s gonna bust a gut laughing. Talk about epic.”

It did seem weird not having Phil around, especially for a stunt like this one. He would’ve loved it. Hell, he’d have been doing a hula across the quad with the headmaster’s chamberpot on his head. Before Billy came to Regis, it was usually Phil who’d instigated the gang’s troublemaking schemes, and it was a testament to Phil’s basic generosity that he’d given way to the new guy’s bustling leadership without even a hint of sulking. Joey doubted that anyone could sustain a sulk around Billy for long.

“Damn,” Joey said suddenly, and when Billy raised a brow, he said, “Phil took his camera with him. We won’t be able to get a photo.”

“That’s okay,” said Billy, his tone earnest. “You can draw him a picture. That’ll be even better.”

Joey blushed even harder. Christ, Billy always knew just how to undo him. Joey had been trying to do the whole girl-chasing, booze-guzzling, just-one-of-the-boys act all night, and for all the authenticity he’d mustered he figured he might as well kneel at Billy’s high-topped feet now and announce his crush to the quad. For all Joey knew, maybe this whole prank had just been some elaborate attempt to divert attention from his plainly evident freak-out about being alone in the dorm with Billy. Because yeah, Billy was eager to save face in front of the school, but he also took Joey’s pride a hell of a lot more seriously than his own.

Maybe they could all just camp out here until morning. Or even better, until Phil got back and started protecting their fucking pitch like he was best at. Holding the line. Joey sighed and crouched at the table between Hank and Ric, running a fingertip around the tricorne rim of Gould’s butt-ugly fillpot and wondering what Billy would look like in a three-corner. Sexy as hell, probably. Looking up, he found Billy’s gaze latched to the movement of his hand, and Joey bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably on his haunches. Only he could get hard moving fucking furniture.

“My kingdom for a cigarette,” Snuffy moaned. “No, seriously, my left nut for a smoke.”

“Like you’re using that old thing anyhow, Snuff,” said Hank. “Too cheap.”

“What _is_ that object you’re fondling, Mr Trotta?” said Snuffy, presenting his middle finger to Hank and squinting myopically in Joey’s direction. “Tell me it’s an ashtray and not another pisspot.”

“Not a pisspot,” said Joey, “a fillpot.”

“Phil? Where’s Phil?” slurred Ric, sounding close to sleep.

“A toby jug,” Joey clarified. “I think they’re named for Sir Toby Belch. People collect them.”

“_Freaks_ collect them,” said Hank, giving an obliging burp. “Like my dad.”

“Your dad likes antiques?” asked Joey.

“Hell, my dad is an antique,” said Hank. “You know dads.”

Joey hmmed noncommittally and then glowered at Snuffy’s reproving _tch_.

Billy stepped forward into Joey’s line of sight and said, “So who’s Sir Toby Belch?”

There was another _tch_ from behind Billy, but Billy was smiling, so Joey ignored it. He like the way Billy never pretended to know shit. “From _Twelfth Night_. Shakespeare. We did it last year. It was before you got here.” Another fucking lifetime, and goddamn if this mess got Billy expelled for real; Parker could wait in line to strangle him. No way was Joey staying at Regis if Billy left.

“Billy, you’d like Sir Toby,” said Snuffy snottily. “He’s your kind of asshole.”

Joey sighed. “He’s a prankster, more or less. He dupes this pompous idiot Malvolio into believing some chick’s in love with him.”

“_Some are born great, some achieve greatness_,” sing-songed Snuffy and Hank in quiet unison.

“_And some have greatness thrust upon them_,” Joey finished with a smile. “Pretty famous line, but it’s just part of the joke on Malvolio.”

“Crossgarters,” Ric interjected suddenly, before dropping into a leaden snore.

The others guffawed as quietly as possible. “Yeah, Snuffy looked pretty special in Malvolio’s yellow crossgarters,” said Joey.

“Oh, shut up,” said Snuffy.

“Don’t tell me you’re still whining about not playing Sir Toby. Dude, you got a great part,” said Joey. To Billy he explained, “Malvolio’s so fucked over he ends up locked in the basement like a lunatic. It’s unbelievably sadistic. Snuffy tore it up.”

“Aw, stop it, you’re making me blush,” said Snuffy, sounding pleased.

The clock tower rang out two, and they all flinched and swore except for Ric, whose snores only grew louder. “Damn, we’d better haul him back to his room, Snuff,” said Hank, standing up and stretching his popping limbs to the sky. “What a night. I have never wanted my bed more.”

“Well, make the most of it. You know we’re just going to be carting all this stuff back again in the morning,” said Joey, watching Hank haul Ric upright.

“We’ll blame McAllister,” said Snuffy, flanking Ric and dragging a limp arm across his shoulders. “No one’ll suspect a thing.”

“Like McAllister’s got the brain power or the physical stamina for a prank on this scale,” said Hank, ruffling Snuffy’s hair. “That’s the schnapps talking.”

“Or the nicotine withdrawal,” said Snuffy. He shot Joey a curious look. “What, you’re not coming?”

“Yeah, yeah, in a bit,” said Joey, getting to his feet slowly. “I just want to hang out here a little longer.”

“Don’t stay out too late, boys,” Snuffy sang out in a low voice as Joey rounded the three-seater and dropped into its welcoming softness. “It’s after curfew, and you need your beauty sleep.”

Joey didn’t even bother giving him the finger and simply watched as the four-legged race stumbled off across the quad towards the dorms. They were gone too quickly; he wasn’t surprised when Billy joined him on the sofa, but the weight of Billy’s eyes made his ribcage squeeze, and he wriggled in his seat.

“You don’t really think I’m such an asshole, do you?” asked Billy.

The uncertainty in his voice hurt Joey, even as it gave him hope, and he shook his head. “No, man.”

“I mean jokes are great and all, yeah, but I’m not a mean guy, am I? That’s not how you see me, is it?”

Joey groaned. “No, Billy, you’re not mean.”

“So why have you been acting so crazy? It’s just me, right? You know me. You don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to me.”

“Oh, yeah, Billy, that’s right,” said Joey, rolling his eyes. “You’re _completely_ harmless.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Billy. He cocked his head to one side and gave Joey a wild grin, than lay his body along the length of the couch and placed his head in Joey’s lap. “Speaking of Shakespeare-”

_Oh, you did not just say that, Tepper. You did _not_ do that._ But Joey’s lap sure didn’t seem to mind plumping up for Billy’s comfort and somehow his hands found their way into Billy’s hair, where the dirt-fair curls coiled with typical Tepper insistence about his fingertips. _Christ, I _am_ a fucking girl._ “Billy-”

“It’s a gorgeous night,” said Billy, and Joey honestly couldn’t tell whether Billy’s shadowed gaze was upon the sky or him. “What’s that Siouxsie song you like? _The stars that shine and the stars that shrink…_”

If there was one thing Billy couldn’t do, it was sing; the small evidence of incompetence was almost comforting. “I know the one you mean. And you like it too. _Dazzle_’s a trickster’s song.”

“Joey?”

“Hmm?”

“This isn’t a trick,” Billy whispered, and then a sweep of barked knuckles and ragged cuticles drew Joey’s mouth down to Billy’s, and Joey realized he’d never known the meaning of serious fucking miracle until now.


End file.
